


Heavy petting

by AllyinthekeyofX



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst fluff and mild smut ensues, F/M, MSR, Mulder has a cat, Post episode s10 ep 03, RST (again), Scully stole a dog, Season 10/Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllyinthekeyofX/pseuds/AllyinthekeyofX
Summary: Scully brings her new dog home.  But there's a problem.





	1. Chapter 1

I arrived home a couple of hours ago after dropping Scully and her new four legged friend off at her apartment building and although I had offered to carry the wire cage containing the scruffy looking little terrier upstairs for her she had refused my offer, planting a kiss on my cheek and allowing the palm of her hand to rest briefly on my chest. Her eyes holding on to mine for just a few seconds as she silently apologised for her refusal; that she wasn’t yet quite ready to allow me to just do things for her in the way I used to before everything went to hell for us both.

And I understood her reluctance; God knows I had let her down often enough in the past that I had no real right to expect her to admit to any sort of reliance on me now; even with regards to basic trivialities such as carrying for her, because if I’m honest, the burdens I had heaped upon her over the last two decades had been largely hers to carry alone and mostly I had been oblivious to them. Emotional burdens that slowly ate her up from the inside out and which dulled the spark that had once burned so brightly for us both; a gradual decline that I barely noticed, wrapped up as I was in my own misery I failed to really acknowledge hers until one day it was too late and she was just gone.

To coin an almost forgotten phrase from my time misspending my youth in Oxford, her leaving gave me the kick up the arse I needed and the choices I was left with became starkly simplistic - fight to get her back or give up completely.

I don’t mean I bombarded her with flowers and hollow declarations of love; because I know Scully and for her, actions had always spoken louder than words and there had been far too many times when I promised things would be different only to quickly fall back in to the habits formed so long ago and which had shaped the very fabric of my life. Denial, loathing, guilt, a stubborn belief that my way was the right way regardless of how much I hurt myself and those around me. But without her to prop me up, to give her own unique and unwavering validation that I was worth saving I was left with no other option than to attempt to save myself.

I started running again. Twice a day without fail I pounded the dirt paths that surrounded the house and which stretched for miles in all directions, forcing myself to start keeping regular hours again, to get my erratic sleeping and eating patterns under control; dragging myself away from the computer by 6pm every evening and forcing myself to just be still. I listened to endless CDs playing softly in the background as I lay prone on the sofa and just watched the golden flames dancing and twirling behind the smoky glass of the old wood burning stove; for the first time in years allowing my mind to empty of thoughts; to rest myself in a way I don’t think I ever have.

I won’t say it was easy. I had some very dark days where I fluctuated between needing her so badly it was like a physical ache inside me and hating her with an intensity that blotted everything else out because she had actually abandoned me when I was so reliant on her to make me feel worthy as a human being. I contemplated suicide many times during the initial weeks without her, but even when I found myself holding the cold hard steel of the old revolver I had managed to procure when we were still running, turning it over and over in my hands and wondering what the bullet tearing in to my skull would feel like for the split second before my brains splattered on the wall behind, something always held me back; because I knew that it would be Scully who would have to live with what I had done and as far gone as I was at that point, the knowledge that I had hurt her enough already to last several lifetimes always somehow returned me from the brink.

I began to see a counsellor on a regular basis; swallowing my stubborn pride and facing up to my past transgressions. Laying myself bare as the raw emotion I had suppressed for so long was brought painfully to the fore and as much as the sessions left me a sweating, shaking mess that could barely function on the most basic level, sending me crawling to bed where I curled myself around the pillow she had once rested her head upon and cried until I felt hollow inside, I quickly discovered that without fail I would awaken the next morning feeling just a little bit stronger; a little bit lighter.

Until finally I didn’t need the emotional crutch the sessions offered and while I could never say I am completely cured, I am certainly armed with the mechanisms required to cope with my past on the occasions it rears its ugly head again and threatens to destroy all I have achieved in the two years since Scully left to try to salvage her own life.

We didn’t speak for almost a year – my choice not hers – because I knew it was something I had to do alone and that if I allowed myself to falter I wouldn’t be able to find the strength to start again. So I cut her out of my life and even though I think she understands my reasons there is a part of her that still holds on to the hurt my total denial of her caused.

Which is why now, even though we have been in each other’s lives – initially on the outskirts but later as the friends we once were – for well over a year, she is reluctant to express any kind of need to me; afraid maybe that I will let her down once more.

Slowly though it’s becoming okay because since we have been working together again, seeing each other on an almost daily basis I have felt a subtle shift in the way we are beginning to view each other; the easy relationship we once shared is slowly pushing its way through the walls we have both hidden behind for so long and in some ways, it’s almost like the last decade or so didn’t happen at all. But the one thing we can’t hide from each other is the loneliness – because as much as I think we both try to deny it, even though we are now once again surrounded by people, the fact that we are separate from each other leaves a void inside us that nothing can fill. 

I think that’s maybe why she stole the dog. Although why she had to steal one I have no idea and because it was such an un-Scully-like thing to do I literally spent a few minutes just flapping my mouth like a suffocating guppy before finally managing to remind her that we are Federal Agents and the procuring of canines through illegal means was probably frowned upon, even if they were scruffy unwanted canines with uneven ears and stumpy legs.

She told me to shut up, softening her words with an impish smile that sliced years off her and instantly made my stomach flip lazily and so I said no more; just started the car and pointed it in the direction of home.

The drive home was an easy one and after dropping Scully off I took a quick detour to pick up supplies, mentally cataloguing the meagre contents of my fridge and quickly realising that if I wanted to eat something other than rancid vegetables tonight I had better drop off at the nearest K-Mart. I also stocked up on an assortment of cat and dog food.

Yes, I have a cat.

Not by choice though I have to say; because my idea of a pet has always been one that requires very little interaction from me and which, at the point of its demise I can wrap in toilet paper and send it off to the great sewer system in the sky. I’ve had fish for as long as I can remember and I stopped naming them years ago ever since I found myself shedding actual tears when I discovered a beautiful specimen I’d named after my partner floating belly up one morning. It had seemed like a bad omen and had prevented me from daring to personalise them to that degree ever again.

 

So all in all I had been less than pleased to return from a run one frigid November afternoon to discover a barely alive scrap of ginger fur pressed up against my porch steps and to my shame I had actually considered ignoring it and allowing nature to take its course. But of course I hadn’t; instead I had spent the evening cradling it against my chest, taking Scully’s advice that I should place it directly on my skin to give maximum warmth and somehow, by the time I woke up to find two startlingly golden eyes peering at me from that tiny kitten face, I was completely hooked.

I called him Tooms as a nod to those amazing eyes and even though some weeks later I discovered that not only was he a her but that liver made her spread the contents of her feline digestive system in every room of the house, the name had stuck and I’ve discovered since then that actually, ginger tabbies with golden eyes are not the norm in the cat community and by the way Tooms struts around the place and drapes herself possessively over my shoulder at every opportunity, I think she knows somehow that she is special; not only to me but to Scully also. Because she opened a door for us both that might have remained closed for ever – she allowed me to finally pick up the phone and bridge the chasm that I had blasted between my partner and I; calling her to garner advice I didn’t really need. It had been a start, albeit pretty rocky to begin with, but Scully became a regular visitor to the house she had once filled so completely and when things got awkward between us, when conversation became stilted and when the silence stretched thinly, that little cat worked her magic and found just the right moment to entertain us with a sideways flip off the sofa to make us laugh, to ease the moment.

I think maybe it’s part of the reason Scully wanted the dog; to have something to fill the silence, to give us both safe territory when somehow the words don’t want to flow between us even though we want them to. The healing power an animal brings that I had never considered before. So I bought dog food; stacking it carefully at the opposite side of the cupboard where Tooms’ array of goodies reside because somehow I know that Scully and her dog will now become a double act where visiting is concerned. Quite how Tooms will react to a canine interloper on her patch remains to be seen though.

As it turned out in fact, I didn’t have to wait long to find out the answer to that particular question because I had quite literally only been home for a couple of hours when the sight and sound of Scully’s ridiculously large SUV coming up the dirt track that led from the road brought me up from where I had been enjoying a post dinner relax with a certain ginger cat who had refused to leave my side since she had come thudding down the stairs with all the enthusiasm of a five year old who had got in to the Mountain Dew; shinning up my leg which for the hundredth time made me regret ever teaching her the trick. As a kitten it had seemed cute; as a fully grown well nourished adult cat it was just fucking painful and I’d lost count as to how many puncture wounds I’d poured iodine in to over the last six months. Luckily though, this level of enthusiastic greeting was reserved only for when there had been a prolonged absence – which in Tooms’ universe meant thirty six hours or more.

She had given me a look when I tipped her gently off my lap that kind of reminded me of the way Scully looks at me when I’ve really pissed her off, and then proceeded to studiously ignore me as she began to delicately clean her paws, allowing me to turn my attention to Scully as she made her way from the car to the porch steps and I was unsurprised to see the little white terrier who trotted obediently beside her on the end of his brand new leash.

What did surprise me though was the look on Scully’s face because as she slowly walked up the steps and her face became easier to see in the gathering dusk that surrounded us it was obvious that she had been recently crying and even though no tears were in evidence right now, after knowing her for so long I can easily recognise the signs especially since a good proportion of the times she has wept have been as a result of either something I did or something I didn’t do.

“Hey Scully....you okay?”

She shrugs miserably and drops her gaze to the dog who right now is eyeballing Tooms where she is sitting on my recently vacated chair and whining thinly.

“I can’t keep him Mulder. I never thought to check but it turns out there is an exclusion clause regarding pets on my building...and I know it’s a lot to ask but I don’t want to bother my Mom and I wondered if....just for a while until I can find him somewhere....”

“You want me to keep the dog here.” I finish for her and smile as her expression suddenly lightens. It’s like flicking a switch and I find a lump forming inexplicably in my throat; knowing how hard it must have been for her to finally ask something of me and frankly she could ask me to find room for the entire contents of the Point Defiance Zoo and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if it made her happy. 

“Sure. More the merrier I guess...and besides...” I grin as I incline my head towards Tooms who has dropped off the chair and padded over to the dog, completely without fear as she proceeds to raise a paw and with claws safely sheathed she bats his muzzle just once as if to warn him in advance that this is her turf. “I think she likes him.”

Scully returns my grin and I think maybe it’s the first time in years that she has unleashed her own unique version on me and right then and there I am transported back twenty-odd years to a rain soaked night where she stood and grinned at me in the pouring rain. An expression that told me plainly that she thought I was fucking crazy, but that she kind of liked me nonetheless. And I can’t help myself; can’t just stand there and do nothing in the way I have done nothing for too many years, not when she is standing there before me and smiling that smile that I know she has always reserved just for me. So I bring my hand up to gently smooth the hair away from where it has fallen forwards, tucking it behind her ear as my fingers find the soft skin at the base of her slender white neck and begin to caress her gently, tracing patterns learned long ago when we finally allowed our minds to acknowledge a truth our hearts had always known. And I rejoice inwardly when, instead of pulling away from me she simply sighs and leans her head in to my palm, increasing the contact between us whilst all the time she keeps smiling at me.

“Oh yeah” she whispers, “I think she definitely likes him”

 

Continued Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are so familiar you remember how it felt to forget them.

Part II

 

I have sat with Scully on this battered sofa a thousand times before; I have argued with her, ignored her, disregarded her; I have cuddled her close, wiped away her tears, watched the firelight bounce off her copper coloured hair; pulled her towards me and peppered her face with kisses as her pupils dilated with the combined intensity of our need for each other and I have felt her body rest bonelessly against mine as we lay sated and spent; lost in thoughts of a past that haunted us both and prevented us I think from ever really knowing how to just be happy.

A relationship born of trust, of mutual respect and a deep abiding love for each other that rose out of the ashes of our lives. But always there were feelings of despair, of regret and yearning for things that could never be and while for the most part we were able to push those thoughts away, we rarely addressed them within ourselves and ultimately we allowed them to destroy what we had.

But now, it feels almost as though we are starting anew; that even though we are the same, somehow we are different.

She had allowed me to take her hand and lead her wordlessly in to the house we once shared and even though every fibre of my being had screamed at me to just take her in my arms and press my lips to her skin, I had forced myself to back off slightly – knowing somehow that even one misstep on my part would send her fleeing from me and we could lose something that this time might never be regained. So I searched her face and took my cues from her, reading her effortlessly in a way I had almost forgotten I was able to do because it had been so long since she had allowed me to really look in to her, to feel her, to know her again.

Of course she has been with me in the house on many occasions since she chose to leave but there has always been an invisible barrier between us that became a safe and protective force to help ensure we stayed on safe territory; that we didn’t ask each other for anything we weren’t prepared to give. 

I had already eaten earlier in the evening – a simple meal of lemon chicken on a bed of wild rice and I had been more than surprised when she asked if I had any leftovers because it has been a very long time since she had eaten anything I had cooked. Maybe it was just too painful for her I don’t know because in the early days spent here, before everything just got too overwhelming I cooked for her every night so that she would have a hot meal waiting for her after long hours spent on her feet at the hospital. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I stopped bothering; when she ate at the hospital instead of relying on me to remember to leave the small room which had become my own version of a fortress; to actually take the time to take care of her in a way I had always promised myself I would.

It was just one of many promises I had made back then that over time, became as unimportant to me as I did to myself.

But tonight, she ate my food while I tried to concentrate my attention elsewhere; to keep the smile off my face at the sight of her just sat there before me as she delicately worked her way through the meal, pausing occasionally to dab at her mouth with the paper napkin clutched in her hand. We didn’t speak. There didn’t seem a need at that moment and so I just sat opposite her, watching her as she ate, allowing my eyes to meet hers occasionally from across the space that separated us, encouraged by the way she didn’t look away even though I think somewhere deep inside her she wanted to.

By the time she had finished, the shadows had finally lengthened as dusk became night and even though it was already late Spring, the nights were still chilly enough for me to light up the wood burner to chase away the draughts that continued to rattle around my tiny wooden house and which only really disappeared in the height of summer; and after handing her a steaming mug of the green tea I keep here just for her, I joined her on the sofa in front of the fire and watched the golden light of the flames within bounce off her hair and turn her pale skin in to shimmering gold and truly I don’t think I have ever felt so at peace as I did at that moment.

Tooms has settled herself in her usual position right in front of the fire and while she initially made it very clear to the small scraggy interloper who had suddenly appeared in her life that this was her spot, she had over time, allowed him to curl up just a few inches away from her, clearly not perceiving him as a threat either to her or the warmth that radiated from the slightly rusted belly of the stove even when he began to emit soft noises of doggy contentment as he slept.

“Have you thought of a name for him yet....well aside from Puppy of course.”

Beside me Scully shakes her head slightly before setting her drink on the floor.

“Not really. I was hoping inspiration might hit but so far nothing has seemed quite right.”

And suddenly a half forgotten conversation from yesterday replays in my head, as I had stood in the graveyard listening to the man before me weave his fantastical tale that had seemed so ridiculous at the time.

*I bought a puppy*

Could it be the same dog? Probably not; but right now I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be the same dog that had, for a few hours brought comfort to his new owner in the midst of so much uncertainty.

“I think maybe he was Guy’s dog Scully..”

“Guy? You mean your horney-toed lizard man Mulder?”

There is just a hint of laughter in her voice, that same slightly teasing tone she had adopted when I was enthusiastically trying to persuade her that what we had encountered was, if not quite within the realm of the natural sciences, was explainable in a real-world way. Because I hadn’t realised at that moment that even though I had tried to persuade myself it wasn’t so, there was a part of me that still wanted to believe so badly even I was terrified of what it could mean. 

Because I had spent years believing and look where it had gotten me.

“Yeah, my horney-toed lizard man decided having a dog would make him feel more accepting of becoming human but it just made him even more miserable because he only had him for a night before he lost him when the maid came to clean while he was out at work and....”

 

I’m aware that Scully is trying to keep up with this strange rambling explanation and I tail off, taking a swallow of coffee before I wave my hand at the sleeping terrier.

“Anyway, he named him Daggoo.”

“Daggoo?” Scully smiled then. “You know who Daggoo was Mulder?”

And even though I do, I let her tell me. Just to watch how the tiny lines become visible at the corners of her beautiful eyes as her whole face seems to suddenly light up.

“He was a harpoonist in Moby Dick. Just like Queequeg.....Mulder are you making this up?”

“Scouts honour Scully I promise. Weird coincidence huh?....”

Scully has stopped smiling though, her expression far away, eyes clouded with memories that are radiating from her in such a palpable way I could almost reach out and touch them. A time when we still felt that maybe, just maybe we could win; that the truth and justice we both so desperately needed would one day be ours. And I often think back to that time we spent together, having already lost so much we had had no conceivable idea of just how much we still had left to lose. It’s a sobering thought and right now, I know she feels it in exactly the same way I do – the sacrifices we made; the risks we took and the people we lost along the way. So much heartache for two people to bear in a lifetime and I guess it’s no real surprise that we became as screwed up as we did; that in some ways we still are.

But things are different now; or at least I am different – because I realise now that everything we went through, everything we fought for, every drop of blood that spilled was pre destined – that the path we found ourselves on so long ago could never have the ending we sought simply because for whatever reason, it just wasn’t meant to be and allowing the guilt and the regret to become larger than the quest itself was probably the easiest way to justify everything that had come afterwards.

And almost against my will I find myself shifting slightly, reaching out to her and tentatively covering one of her small hands with my own and entwining my fingers with hers. For just a second she goes rigid and I am about to apologise, to pull away from her, to stop invading her space with my own; but before I can do any of those things she turns toward me, her blue eyes luminous with unshed tears and brings my hand, palm – up to rest against the soft skin of her cheek as a single tear escapes and tracks slowly down her face. A single tear that shines crystalline and golden in the soft light of the fire and one which I can’t seem to take my eyes off, a wave of guilt crashing over me as I realise that I have made her cry again. That no matter how hard I try to make amends I seem to just make her miserable at every turn.

I am more than a little surprised therefore when she slides toward me, her hand still pressed tightly against mine.

“I’ve missed you Mulder....I’ve missed this so much.” Her whispered words only barely audible but I have no trouble hearing her in the silence that surrounds us.

And then she leans in close and brushes her lips against mine with such gentleness, such reverence and such longing that I can literally feel myself turning to liquid beneath her touch because God knows I’ve missed her too. More than I think even I realised until now.

Her small hands slide around to the back of my neck and I close my eyes at the feeling of her running her fingers through my hair, scratching her nails softly against my scalp, those small, strong capable doctor’s hands that have the ability to chase away my nightmares, to soothe my soul and which have sent me soaring in the past to heights I had never imagined I could reach. Those hands that know every inch of my body just as mine know hers because the time we have spent apart in no way equals the time we spent together and the feeling is both achingly familiar and heartbreakingly painful because I know, as I have always known, that we should never have allowed ourselves to be apart at all. 

I mirror her exactly, clutching at her like a drowning man seeking salvation, feeling the warmth of her hair in my hands as our lips part, tongues meeting, reacquainting, our breath ragged with familiar desire and for just a few moments, there is no gentleness. Just a raw animalistic need to find each other again, to reach out; to reconnect and I suddenly wish I could literally pull her inside me; to capture her there and never let her go.

It’s a moment in my life that I will never forget because if I live to be a hundred, the feeling as Scully gives herself over to me for a second time, gives me her trust, leaves me trembling violently with a combination of blinding exaltation and a crushing sense of regret that I lost her in the first place. And it’s enough for her to still her movement, to clasp her hand to the back of my neck and draw my face down towards hers, until our foreheads are resting together.

“You’re shaking.”

I nod. Incapable of speech, because I am afraid that if I try I will just break down in front of her but I have forgotten that this is Scully and that words have never been necessary to communicate with each other and gently, so gently she begins to track her lips along my hairline, kissing her way along my jaw, first one side then the other, stroking my neck, calming me with her touch in the way only she can.

“It’s okay.” She murmurs as she kisses each corner of my slightly parted lips, running her tongue over their surface lightly, affirming that this is right; that she wants this just as much as I do; that what happened between us when we lost sight of ourselves is in the past; that it’s time to finally let it go, taking control as she slides her tongue forwards to join with mine once again and this time our kiss is languid and slow and deliciously wonderful as I explore every inch of that glorious mouth and the years just fall away, transporting me back to a time when we finally allowed ourselves to act upon a need that had burned inside us for years and one which I have always known could never be extinguished; that despite all the heartache we had caused each other we have somehow always belonged together.

Without breaking our kiss I slide my hands down her shoulders before dropping them away to smooth a path along the planes of her back, the feel of her shoulder blades, the gentle curve of her delicate spine, the way her ribs taper off to her tiny waist, a waist that I have no trouble spanning with my fingers as I pull her on to my lap, gasping as she responds by settling herself squarely at the point where my growing erection is pushing against the constraints of my jeans, watching as she quirks an eyebrow at me in patented Dana Scully fashion.

“Already Mulder? I’m impressed.”

It lightens the moment 

“Yeah well, I’m pretty spry for an old guy Scully.”

She nods slowly, dropping her hand to settle against the rough denim that betrays me and my need for her and squeezes softly, the sudden contact enough to elicit a strangled moan from me and by the look on her face, it’s patently obvious that she is more than pleased at the effect she is having on me. But then, Scully has always been a bit of a minx in that regard and beneath the tailored suits and rigid formality beats the heart of a tigress. A tigress that right now is practically purring against me.

“Come on old man. I think maybe it’s time you took me upstairs.”

Continued part 3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it takes the return of a half to make you whole again.

A few years ago I doubt we would have bothered moving from the sofa to the bed but frankly, we aren’t as young as we once were and I think our days of practicing furniture origami are probably a thing of the past. But that’s okay; I can more than live with that in the same way I can live with the fact that while my mind would like to sweep her in to my arms and carry her giggling up the stairs the way I used to, my back probably wouldn’t thank me and certainly by the way my cartilage grinds when I have to do stairs I’m damn sure my knees wouldn’t either. And you know that’s okay too because if she were in my arms right now I wouldn’t be feeling the way her hands are resting on my ass cheeks as she follows me up the steep wooden steps that lead to the bedroom under the eaves of this simple house where we spent so many nights; just being together at a time when we had had nothing else to hold on to but each other.

And even though in a sense it feels as familiar to me as I always hoped it would, there is just a small part of me that feels a little strange. Because it’s over two years since she has even climbed these stairs at all, having had neither cause nor inclination and really, I can’t say I blame her; especially given the fact I myself didn’t manage to make it up here to sleep for weeks after she left even though I was meant to be living in the damn house. But I just couldn’t bring myself to even touch the bed we once shared and it was only when I started the counselling that something inside me was set free enough for me to allow myself to utilise the bed rather than the sofa. Even then I often didn’t make it through the whole night without waking up; paralysed with the crushing realisation that she really wasn’t here; that she had finally left me after trying so hard for so many years to stop me from pushing her away.

But I’ve certainly got no intention of pushing her away tonight and as we reach the narrow landing that leads to the bedroom and then beyond to the bathroom that even now contains bottles of the scented oils she adored and which I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw out, I turn so I am facing her; cupping her face in my hands as I bend slightly before once again bringing my lips to hers, needing the contact as I walk backwards through the dark oak door frame, pulling her with me, conscious of every step we take. 

And there is no rush; no particular urgency because we both know we have all the time in the world now; that the desperate need within us to seek both affirmation and absolution from each other is now firmly in the past.

The room is dark and even though the blinds aren’t drawn, the fact that there is hardly any moon tonight means the furniture within is barely visible; but the room hasn’t changed at all and we certainly don’t need help negotiating our way to the bed where, to my surprise Scully stops and flicks on one of the lamps that sits atop the small cabinet right beside it.

“It’s been too long Mulder” she informs me softly, running the palm of her hand lightly across my chest as she suddenly locks eyes with me; twin laser beams that have the power to render me incapable of coherent thought in some situations and which have knocked me squarely on my sorry ass in others. “I want us to see each other”

She licks her lips then, not the nervous action of times past when she was as unsure of herself as she was of me, but now one of control, of wanting and of delicious anticipation for things to come before crossing her arms to grasp the hem of her shirt, drawing it slowly up her torso and over her head. It’s enough to send me weak at the knees and I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed. 

I can’t tear my eyes away from her and I think maybe my mouth is hanging slightly open, because as she swiftly divests herself of the rest of her clothing and gives me the full benefit of that creamy white skin, a mere six inches from my face, I am struck anew by just how fucking beautiful she is. 

Had I really forgotten? Or had I refused to allow myself to remember as another way to save myself?

But now, finally, I can look at her as she stands unashamedly in front of me, a tiny smile playing across her face and her eyes alight with desire. 

Before I met Scully I had always gravitated to a specific type of woman and I can categorically say that diminutive redheads with attitude had never really featured high in preference where my choice of sexual partners had been concerned but I can vividly remember that the first time I had ever seen her naked, every preconception I might have had went tumbling into the abyss. Because she was perfection then and she is perfection now. 

Scully’s body is incredible and it’s strange because when clothed she can seem slightly out of proportion somehow, the lines of those tailored suits of hers cutting her off at strange angles and making her seem out of whack. But without clothes she is like a finely crafted symphony, a series of musical notes that separately mean nothing but when brought together make perfect and beautiful sense.

Her limbs are contoured with just the right amount of definition, her shoulders finely sloping, her collarbones delicate and just visible beneath her skin. Her breasts small but rounded with perfectly centred nipples that right now are a dark chestnut colour, the aureoles slightly drawn and puckered, reflecting her need of me and frankly, if I were blessed with poetic inclination I could happily write a whole sonnet just dedicated to Scully’s tits. But I’m not and so I just keep tracking my eyes down her body as she stands before me without even a shred of self-consciousness at my scrutiny of her because she knows I could never look at her and find her wanting because to me at least she is simply exquisite. 

Her stomach is still flat and toned and when she breathes in, her abs briefly appear before her abdomen softens once again on the out breath. The scar is still there, although faded by years passed; a small ridged area that is still a contrast to the pale skin that surrounds it. Evidence of a moment in time where she almost died as a result of another’s duplicity although not mine for once; because the scars I inflicted on this woman were centred mostly on her mind rather than her body. 

I refuse to allow myself to dwell on the thought though because if I’ve learned anything it’s that I am not to blame for the choices Scully made so many years ago and that while falling into that easy self indulgence may give me some sense of absolution, I now to know that by doing so I effectively trivialise every sacrifice she ever made. And I refuse to do that to her anymore.

So instead I reach for her, wrapping my arms around her and drawing her towards me and our height difference right now means I am able to rest my cheek against the softness of her belly, breathing in the scent of her arousal, a combination of the soap she favours, the perfume she wears and the soft musk that is uniquely hers and the overload to my senses is enough to make my head spin especially when she begins the rake her fingernails through my hair.

“Jesus Scully” I finally manage “this is fucking killing me it’s so good.”

And she laughs then, the sound lessening the sheer intensity of my feelings just enough to ground me slightly, to allow me to draw breath as she reaches down and takes my hands from behind her back, lifting my arms enough so she can remove the t shirt I have almost forgotten I am wearing and I move to help but am stilled by her palm resting suddenly against my chest.

“Let me do it....I want to do it okay?”

I’m in no shape to argue so I just allow her to undress me, my body pliant and accepting as she deftly releases the button of my jeans, sliding the zipper down so excruciatingly slowly that the movement sends tiny vibrations along the surface of my cock that is now fully erect and just waiting for a chance to show itself. It doesn’t have to wait long as she kneels before me, encouraging me to lift my hips slightly so she can pull both jeans and boxers in one fluid movement, capturing my socks as her hands pass by and peeling them away with the jeans. Scully has always been nothing if not efficient. She then scoots towards me on her knees and really, I should have been prepared for what comes next. 

I mean I know this woman almost as well as I know myself, know exactly her likes and dislikes, her exquisite and well honed version of foreplay that involves closing those glistening red lips over the head of my cock and sliding her mouth almost fully to the hilt and slowly back again. Just once. Slowly and languidly claiming me as her own.

And it takes every single shred of self control I have left not to come right there and then when I see the expression of absolute satisfaction on her beautiful face as she flicks the head with her tongue, lapping at me like a cat who has just been presented with a dish of cream. 

Like I said before, Scully is a bit of a minx.

“Come here” I whisper, pulling her forwards even as lay back on the soft comforter that covers the bed, the softness of the material pillowing me as I in turn pillow Scully, laying her atop me so that every part of her his touching me. Skin to skin contact – specifically of course, her skin against mine – that I have dreamed about a thousand times but never really dared that it might once again become a reality. But she is here and she is gloriously alive and she is mine once again.

I can feel every tiny nuance of her body as she presses it against me, nestling her head just under my chin, her nipples almost rough against my chest, the steady thrum of her heartbeat resonating through me, increasing slightly as I part my legs so she can slip into the vee it creates, her pelvis resting against mine, her centre hot and wet against my groin, her slight weight pressing against my erection in a most gratifying way and even though I know I should be at least be making some attempt to touch her, to prolong this whole experience for both of us, what I really need is to be inside her, feeling her, joining with her again.

And I think she feels it too, because without a word she slowly raises herself until she is hovering over me, kneeling astride me her hair framing her face, eyes dark and intense as though all pupil; watching me as I prop myself up on one elbow so I can smooth the hair behind her ears, cupping her chin in my hand as my lips meet hers at the exact moment I feel herself lower herself onto me, sheathing me completely in her velvet liquid heat, my hips bucking as I thrust involuntarily to meet her and it is incredible and shocking and stunning and wonderful and unbelievable; in fact frankly there aren’t enough adjectives in the world to describe how I’m feeling right now. A sense of belonging, of sufficiency, of coming home; an end to a journey spanning two decades of love and loss and sacrifice. A journey that has come full circle and given us a strength I think we always had but forgot how to use.

All these thoughts flash through my mind in a heartbeat, but as though she senses my introspection she just waits, waits for me to come back to her as her expression softens; the tears that have gathered suddenly in her eyes belying the tiny smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth as her hand finds mine and our fingers interlock. Fitting together like two pieces of the puzzle; just as we always did.

And then she blinks the tears away, the tremulous smile transformed into a full wattage grin that I swear could light up a small town with its radiance.

“Oh yeah” she murmurs as she begins to move against me once again. “This is how I like my Mulder.”

End


End file.
